


Crushes Don't Exist

by SpicedGold



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Academy Students, Feelings Are Confusing, First Crush, First Kiss, M/M, Pre-Genin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 06:49:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14514777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicedGold/pseuds/SpicedGold
Summary: Inojin had the social skills and tact of a walnut (He got it from his daddy) but even he realised that this particular situation was one that needed some sort of forethought and planning.And it was entirely up to him, since the other participant of the conversation, if left to his own devices, would grow old and die before taking initiative.





	Crushes Don't Exist

**Author's Note:**

> So I recently caught up with Boruto. And Shikadai and Inojin are just adorable. They are innocent cuddly babies and I want to steal them for myself.

It seemed inevitable that it would happen to him. He heard people talking about it constantly, in hushed whispers and delighted squeals, in taunting accusations and high-pitched denial. He always assumed it only happened to stupid people, because it seemed something like this could only occur in the weak minded. No one, with any sense or half a brain, would be incapacitated by the mere presence of another. It was absolutely ridiculous.

Until Inojin experienced it.

“Do you have a  . . .” The word was surprisingly hard to say. It didn’t even sound like a real word, just some made up term to justify what he assumed was the stupidity of people unable to control their own thoughts. He finished in a hushed whisper, almost embarrassed to be saying it, “. . . Crush?”

Chocho didn’t even blink. She continued, undeterred, through her bag of potato chips, taking her time to mull over her answer. Finally, with a confident flick of her head, she answered, “No, but I don’t need one. I’m so fabulous, that there is hardly anyone around me who wouldn’t have a crush on _me_. It is a burden people as beautiful as I have to deal with.”

“You’re fat.”

“Listen,” Chocho said, jabbing a finger in the centre of his chest. Inojin staggered back a step. “You just aren’t mature enough to realise and appreciate my beauty. One day you’ll outgrow your stupid boy tendencies and understand what a real woman is. And don’t worry,” she winked at him, “I won’t tease you when you develop a crush on me, like everyone else.”

“Name one person.”

“Inojin,” Chocho said reproachfully. “You don’t point out your crush to other people. It’s something only close friends know about. So I won’t list my admirers; that would be a breach of confidence.”

That was a neat way to say she had no idea, but for once Inojin kept his mouth shut. He glanced around the classroom. It was mostly empty; it was early morning and only a few students had arrived. He had been hoping to do more research, to try to understand the parameters of the dreaded ‘crush’ so he could figure out how to overcome it.

He didn’t know who else to ask, though. Sarada was probably the most level-headed person in the class, but she also spoke to girls, and girls couldn’t keep quiet. If Inojin even mentioned he had a crush to her, it would be all over the entire school in half a second, and he didn’t want that.

Boruto was an idiot, and would be no help whatsoever. Mitsuki . . . wasn’t even an option.

The most natural course of action would be to speak to his soon to be teammates, which is why he had cornered Chocho that morning. She hadn’t been as helpful as he was hoping, and Shikadai . . . well, that was the problem.

Inojin couldn’t talk his problem through with the third member of what was sure to be his genin team (Seventeen generations of tradition didn’t leave much in the way of surprises) because the boy passed out on his desk snoring was the very reason Inojin had a problem in the first place.

And the thought terrified him.

 

It started so suddenly.

All Inojin had been doing was sitting with his friends at their favourite burger joint, talking about life and being a ninja, when Boruto had made some stupid comment about his stupid dad, and Shikadai had responded instantly, with the usual lazy drawl to his tone.

“Maybe if you spent time at home, he’d spend time with you.”

That froze Boruto in place. He gaped for a moment, then retaliated, “I do spend time at home!”

“You’re here with us, right now,” Shikadai pointed out. “School ended hours ago.”

“Why aren’t _you_ home then?” Boruto accused.

“Because my mom is,” Shikadai replied. “If I go home, I have to do chores.” He leant back in his seat. “It’s more fun being here, and it’s a drag going home anyway.” It was at that moment that he tilted his head towards Inojin, flashing him a half smile, piercing green eyes shining.

It was probably nothing more than an innocuous smile between friends. But it jolted right through Inojin, sparking a hot flush from deep within his belly. He couldn’t look away, pale blue eyes held still by Shikadai’s gaze. His first thought was ‘I must be getting sick’, followed by the very unwelcomed and unexpected ‘He’s so handsome.’

That shocking revelation was enough to get Inojin to tear his eyes away, looking down at his lap, feeling a flush start in his neck and rise over his cheeks. His stomach fluttered weirdly, and he wasn’t sure he could stand up, which seemed a pity as he wanted to run for his life because this was not a normal feeling.

“You okay?” Shikadai asked. Damn him and his flawless observation skills. “You look weird.”

Inojin had about seven retorts ready off the top of his head – a combination of a lack of tact from his father and a sharp tongue from his mother meant he didn’t do well in the ‘making friends’ department – but all he could think to say was, “I think I’m getting a cold.”

“That’s a drag,” Shikadai offered sympathetically. “Want me to walk you home?”

 _Good god, no._ “Yes.” _Damn it._

“Okay.” Shikadai shuffled up out of the booth. He sent a glance at Boruto. “We’re going home. See you tomorrow.”

Inojin slunk out carefully, slightly concerned about his knees giving out. His hands were shaking. It was not helpful. What was even less helpful was how Shikadai placed a hand on his back and started walking. It made concentrating difficult. Inojin bit down on his lower lip to try get his focus back.

It was going to be a long, long walk home.

 

His first thought, naturally, was some sort of illness. Because what else would make you feel sick and disoriented? But a day off from school, and a once over from his mother determined he was fine. He chalked it up to a coincidence, and marched confidently into class.

Shikadai was sitting as he always did, with his arms folded on the desk in front of him, chin resting on them, eyes closed. Inojin saw him, and felt fine, no butterflies present, and, with confidence renewed (He knew it was a fluke, this ‘crush’ thing was just nonsense made up by girls) he took a seat beside his friend.

Shikadai’s acknowledgement of him was a grunt. “Feeling better?”

“Yes.” Inojin had an odd urge to reach out his hand and run his fingers through Shikadai’s spiky hair. _Weird_ , he thought. It wasn’t something he’d thought about before.

“Good.” Shikadai yawned. He sat up, straightening his arms above his head in a stretch. There was a muscle in his neck that drew taut, and a slight popping sound that was either his back or Inojin’s sanity, because once again the terrifying hot flush began and Inojin couldn’t tear his eyes away.

 _What is wrong with me?_ He wondered, half alarmed.

Shikadai rested one elbow on the desk, his head in his palm, and sent Inojin a cool, calculating look. He was pouting slightly. It was unfairly attractive, and Inojin stared at his mouth.

“What?” Shikadai asked flatly.

“N-nothing.” Inojin looked away, down at the desk, trying to fight the heat blooming across his cheeks. _Get a grip_ , he reminded himself. Something needed to be done about this. It was ridiculous. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life a blushing, oozing mess whenever he was near Shikadai – because he was going to be near him a lot.

Inojin could almost feel his career as a shinobi taking flight and leaving him.

Shikadai was still watching him, an eyebrow raised at Inojin’s internal struggle. Eventually, he sighed – Inojin’s stomach jumped – and closed his eyes. “What a drag.”

 

“Mom?” It had been more than a week, and Inojin was starting to despair. He needed help, and he refused to ask Chocho again.

“Yes, love?” Ino was cooking, stirring a pot quietly, a small smile on her face.

“Did you ever have a . . .” The word was still hard to say. It seemed to be mocking him. “. . . _crush_ on someone? Like . . . when you were my age?”

Instead of answering, Ino immediately turned her full attention to her son, eyes sparkling, “Aw, darling, who do you have a crush on? That’s adorable!”

“No one!” Inojin defended, but the blush rising on his pale skin was sure to give him away. He covered his face with his hands. What a spectacular way to look convincing. “I just wanted to . . . I don’t . . . Ugh!”

“It’s okay,” Ino put an arm around him, drawing him close. Inojin took advantage of that to push his face against her side, wrapping both arms around her waist to hide himself and the incriminating blush. “You don’t need to tell me. But, yes, I did.”

He mumbled something into her ribs.

“What?”

“I said,” Inojin pulled back just enough to be heard, “What did you do about it? It’s distracting, and I don’t like it. I can’t make it stop.”

“It’s just a part of life,” Ino said soothingly. She patted him softly on the back. “You’ll be fine. You’ll get over it, or you’ll learn to handle it.”

That wasn’t the comfort he was hoping for.

“Have you told them?”

Inojin shook his head, face still firmly against his mother.

“Sometimes it helps if you do. It makes you feel better, and maybe they feel the same way.”

“Everyone will laugh at me,” he muttered. He tightened his grip when he felt Ino chuckle. He wanted to dig himself a hole in the garden and bury himself, and never speak to anyone again.

“Darling, that’s a risk you have to take. Or you can keep quiet about it. Either one is fine. Try not to beat yourself up about it too much, okay?”

“Okay.” He took in a deep, grounding breath. Feeling a bit more confident and a bit less mortified, he took a few steps back. Head tilting curiously, he asked, “Who did you have a crush on?”

Ino stared at him.

A long silence passed.

“I don’t remember. Dinner’s ready.”

“But-“

“Dinner’s ready!”

 

The plan to confess was terrifying. Inojin spent another week stressing over it, but he realised the urgency of it after Boruto dragged everyone swimming and Inojin almost drowned after watching Shikadai float past him on his back and glistening with water.

Something needed to be done, and he had gathered up his courage.

He timed it just right, seeking Shikadai out on the way home, when no one would interrupt or – even worse – be a witness.

“Sh-shikadai?” The stutter was humiliating, but Shikadai didn’t seem to notice.

He paused mid step, turning to his friend with mild curiosity. “Hm?”

Inojin stopped walking, lips pressed together tightly, eyes down on the ground. His great plan didn’t seem so great anymore. Steeling his resolve, he blurted out, with all his usual tact and eloquence, “I have a crush on you.”

At least he managed to say the word this time.

The brittle silence that followed was horrifying. Inojin didn’t dare look at Shikadai. Suddenly the entire idea seemed stupid, he felt like an idiot, and he wasn’t going to hang around to watch his friendship implode on itself. With very little thought and a lot of adrenaline, he turned to run.

He did not get far.

Inojin suddenly felt his body lock into place, and he felt his heart jump. Oh. Right. He forgot about that.

Shikadai had him held in place. “Wait a second.”

Inojin didn’t really have a choice. He strained against Shikadai’s hold, heart hammering at the sound of his friend’s approach. He braced himself for a hit that was sure to come, eyes screwed closed.

“Me too.”

His eyes snapped open. “What?”

“Yeah,” Shikadai continued, as though this was the most normal conversation in the world. “Figured it out a while ago.”

He released his shadow jutsu suddenly and Inojin’s knees nearly buckled. He caught himself, stumbling around until he was facing Shikadai. His heart hammered in his throat.

Shikadai looked slightly abashed, eyebrows knitted together, the half-smile on his face. But he met Inojin’s eyes resiliently.

“When?” Inojin asked faintly.

“I dunno,” Shikadai shrugged. “Couple months back.”

“And you were going to tell me when?”

Another shrug. “It seemed such a drag.”

 _Of course it did_. “But . . . but . . .”

“So,” Shikadai’s piercing eyes were on him again and it made it hard to breathe. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, we can continue as normal.”

“I – wait – what -?”

Instead of a shrug, Inojin was treated to a long, drawn out sigh. “It’s just a crush. We’re kids. It’s not a big deal. It’ll go away soon. So everything continues as normal.” He smiled sheepishly, raising a hand to rub the back of his neck. “We can just ignore it. It’s troublesome.”

The heat zapped out of Inojin’s body in a flash. The world felt cold. He stared, trying to organize his thoughts. Despite the fact that he had planned for this – acknowledge the (distasteful) crush, and it would go away (hopefully) – he found himself thoroughly dissatisfied with Shikadai’s dismissal. “Shikadai . . .”

“Yeah?” Both hands back in his pockets, shoulders held casually. He looked so unaffected, so calm, so damn gorgeous. Inojin wanted to draw him. His fingers twitched slightly, longing for a brush, for something that was more grounding than this devastating conversation.

“What if it doesn’t go away?”

Shikadai raised one slim eyebrow. The butterflies in Inojin’s stomach had a seizure.

“What if . . . what if it’s something that stays?” He chanced a bold step closer. “What if its real?”

That seemed to make Shikadai falter. Of course it would, there was nothing more troublesome than having to confront and acknowledge his feelings. Shikadai would take the easy way out – denial – but that wasn’t good enough.

That wasn’t what Inojin wanted. Not anymore.

Shikadai hesitated, half turning away. “We’re kids,” he repeated, but the conviction in his tone had vanished. “It won’t . . . it won’t last . . . We can ignore it.”

“I don’t want to.” He grabbed Shikadai’s sleeve. “Please don’t turn away from me. Crushes are stupid, it’s not even a thing, so this must be real.”

It wasn’t the most logical thing he had ever said, but he still believed it. And if Shikadai felt the same way, then, oh, Inojin was going to fight for it. Because he wasn’t one to back down, and he wasn’t going to let go of something he wanted.

Shikadai looked doubtful. “Look, Inojin, it’s not that, it’s just-“

He didn’t get a chance to finish the thought. Inojin yanked him closer, pressing trembling lips against his mouth. It was clumsy and light and, as far as kisses went, thoroughly pathetic, but that didn’t seem to matter.

When Inojin pulled back, flushed and blushing and fighting down the urge to giggle like a girl, Shikadai was standing rooted to the spot, looking dazed. He said nothing.

Inojin swallowed nervously. “Uh . . . Was that . . . okay?” The seemingly relentless butterflies in his stomach had all migrated abruptly, and Inojin felt anxious.

Shikadai finally sighed, raising a hand to scratch his head. “This is going to be a drag, isn’t it?”

Inojin beamed, blue eyes lighting up at Shikadai’s version of an enthusiastic ‘yes’. He held out a hand, grasping Shikadai’s. “I’ll pull you along.”


End file.
